


sunscreen and bickering

by thealienmeme



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, South Downs Cottage, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), also some light jealous!Aziraphale, idk it's just cute, post-armegedidn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2020-06-02 03:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19433425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealienmeme/pseuds/thealienmeme
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are enjoying their time after the Armageddon-that-wasn't in a shared cottage in South Downs and plan a trip to the beach. But what each of them decides to wear to the beach causes a bit of a stir...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic uhhhh ever? Please be kind. It was inspired by a Summer!fic idea list that I saw floating around on Tumblr that had the prompt: "You're wearing that to the beach?"
> 
> *** wow over 400 hits in like 4 hours, thank you all so much for reading my self-indulgent one shot, it means a lot!

It had been a few weeks since the Not-So-End-of-the-World, the last drops of summer hung in the air with a damp warmth that made you wish for winter to just hurry up and get it over with already. 

Aziraphale was tapping his foot incessantly, waiting for Crowley in the front hallway of their cottage*.

*After careful consideration, the sting and scent of fire still fresh in Crowley’s mind and the adrenaline from standing face-to-face with Lucifer himself lingering, the pair decided that they had almost lost each other once and they weren’t going to waste any more time in case it was to happen, again. So, yes, _their_ cottage. 

It was a lovely little thing located in South Downs, in perfect view of the chalky mountains and blue water. Crowley had picked it out one day and presented the idea to Aziraphale while on one of their increasingly common lunch dates. And with an _Oh, my dear boy, you shouldn’t have_ the cottage was toured and purchased. 

They were supposed to leave for the beach 20 minutes ago. Aziraphale looked impatiently at the clock.

“Crowley! I do think we should get going soon, all of the good spots are going to be taken and the food will surely get-” 

“Calm down, calm down, I’m coming,” came a voice that somehow managed to sound both full of love and pure, unfiltered annoyance. It was a tone that, to Aziraphale at least, was uniquely Crowley. 

“Alright, I don’t mean to yell but-” Aziraphale was cut off by the demon turning the corner in… in… in…

“You’re wearing _that_ to the beach?” Aziraphale stared in shock at Crowley’s form, a bit of red forming at the tips of his ears. 

“Yes. Why, what’s wrong with it?” Crowley asked. The question was far from genuine, as Crowley knew exactly what was wrong with it. 

“Don’t you think it’s a bit… um…. well…” 

“Yesssss?” 

“Revealing?” 

Crowley was wearing what could just barely be considered a bathing suit. It covered the necessary bits, which was crucial, but the rest… let’s just say it left little to the imagination. The black string was stark against his skin and Aziraphale didn’t even want to know what the back looked like*. 

*He did - but what he didn’t want was for _other_ people to see what the back looked like. 

“Oh, don’t be such a prude, angel,” Crowley said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s the 21st century, isn’t it?” 

Aziraphale straightened up, trying desperately to ignore the blush that had now crept down from its perch on his ears to rest on his cheeks, and put a stern look on. 

“I think it’s highly inappropriate.” 

“And what? Would you rather I be wearing something like _that_?” Crowley gestured toward Aziraphale, who was wearing a singlet - not unlike the one he had produced for himself as Crowley to wear when sitting in the bath of Holy Water a few weeks ago. This one, however, was striped blue and white. 

“Well at least in _this_ , the entire world can’t see my- my… well, my…” Aziraphale could hear himself falter over the words and the blush had, much like the British in lands that had already belonged to someone else, conquered his neck in addition to the rest of his face. 

“Are you… is this _jealousy_?” 

A grin crept across Crowley’s face as the angel looked nervously to the side, fidgeting with the wine in his hands. 

“No! There will be children there and you’re dressed, if I can even call this ‘dressed’, in what I assume was a spare shoelace that you found lying about under our bed.” 

Aziraphale still hasn’t made eye contact and was instead inspecting with great interest the ground to the left of Crowley’s flip flop. 

“It’s modern, Aziraphale, nothing no one hasn’t seen already on television or in movies.”

“Of all the things you could have miracled yourself to wear, _this_ is what you-” 

Crowley stepped forward, closing the space between them and cupped a hand to Aziraphale’s face. Aziraphale stopped and leaned into the touch, blush turning to a light pink rather than the flaming red it had been a moment ago. 

Aziraphale sighed. 

“I just- I would prefer if I was the only person, or _being_ , rather, allowed to see this much of you.” 

The angel was now looking at Crowley up through blonde eyelashes, bright blue eyes full of regret at the outburst. 

“Ah, so this _is_ jealousy, then?” 

“Crowley…” 

Aziraphale was cut off by a sudden warmth on his lips. The kiss was light and quick, but it was full of a love that had been incubating quietly and stubbornly for 6,000 years. Crowley pulled away as Aziraphale followed him by leaning forward - upset that it had ended so quickly. 

“You could’ve just said that, you know?” 

Aziraphale produced a smile that shone so bright and warm that Crowley was glad that he had already applied sunscreen. 

“I know, I’m sorry, my dear, I didn’t mean to get cross… it’s just, well the thought of all the heads that would turn the minute we stepped onto the sand… I _just_ got you, you know, and I’d like to keep you to myself.” 

“You’ve had me this whole time, angel, and you’ll have me long after you grow sick of me.” 

This time Aziraphale was the one to close the space as he leaned in for another kiss, more fervent than the last and Crowley pulled away, laughing. 

“I can go change into something more ‘appropriate’, but I can’t guarantee that it will be quite so conservative,” Crowley mused with a grin, eyeing Aziraphale’s suit and pointing back to their room. 

“Did you want any help, by chance? Changing, I mean.” Aziraphale said pulling Crowley closer. 

“Oh?” Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t we going to be late as it is? What happened to ‘getting a good spot?’” 

The sun was beating down into the little hallway and with a soft whoosh, the clock that had previously been nailed to the wall above the doorway was knocked off by an unseen force and evaporated into nothing. 

“Just because the clock is gone, doesn’t mean time stops, you cheeky bastard,” Crowley said, with a fond grin. 

“And just because we’re late, doesn’t mean there won’t be any good spots. In fact, I think there’s a spot open right now that will mysteriously stay clear of beachgoers until we arrive.” 

Aziraphale had set down the basket of food and wine and was now softly tugging Crowley toward their bedroom down the hall and past that, er, statue of the angels “wrestling” that Crowley had grown so fond of. 

And as they entered their room, hands grabbing, mouths meeting, and stumbled past Crowley’s plants and a bookshelf filled with Aziraphale’s favorite classics, they realized **just** how lucky they were that they hadn’t been in the least bit competent. 


	2. BONUS ART!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i commissioned art by the lovely @lowez_ on instagram for this fic, so i figured i'd share it here! go give them a follow they draw the most adorable stuff!!!!


End file.
